Lost Child
by c1araoswa1d
Summary: Tumblr Whouffle Prompt: The Doctor and Clara accidentally stumble upon one of her deceased echoes child/children, who mistakes Clara for their mother.


They're in a saloon in the old west when it happens. In the middle of a discussion about gunslingers and how possible it would be for the Doctor to defeat the man who'd challenged him to a duel to the death, or whether they could sneak out of town without anyone noticing, there came a tug at Clara's long dress and when she glanced down, it was with a small gasp of surprise. And before she could question the little boy of around four or five, he climbed up into her lap and straddled her, laying his head against her shoulder and wrapping his arms around her tightly.

And Clara could hear him crying softly into her as his tiny fingers grasped at her dress underneath the waves of her hair down her back. "Hey," she whispered, hands coming up to the boy's back to pat him lightly, feeling her stomach dropping with a horrible idea as she searched her memories, knowing she'd come up foggy, if not entirely blank. "Hey," she repeated.

She raised her eyes to the man across from her. The older man who, only moments before, sat with a rigid look of frustration on his face, but was now watching her with pained understanding. Because only the Doctor would be clever enough to know why a child would cling to her so tightly with tears in his wide dark eyes. Only the Doctor would acknowledge that this boy had been the son of one of her echoes and only the Doctor would have that memory, clearly flashing before his eyes as he watched them.

"You should put him down, send him on his way," the man told her quietly.

The words only settled her palms against the child as she frowned up at the Doctor and told him sternly, "_You_ would say something like that."

"Clara," he pleaded, bending slightly, "We've got more pressing matters than the remnants of your echoes."

"_Remnants of my echoes_?" She repeated harshly, "He is a child, not a remnant, and deserves more attention than you're prepared to offer, apparently."

"Apparently," he stated, leaning back and waving a hand at her, "Honestly, do you think we have time to save the world and handle domestic disturbances at the same time?"

Standing, child firmly held to her, she stared down at him incredulously, "There was a time you'd have agreed we could."

"Those days are gone," he told her, staring fiercely.

"Suppose they are," she replied curtly, one brow rising, before she turned towards the entrance.

She heard his chair slide over the wooden floorboards as he called out, "Clara, how am I supposed to handle this on my own!"

Glancing back at him, one hand gripping the top of a set of swinging doors, she frowned and replied, "Two thousand year old space alien – I'm sure you've acquired some _remnant_ of knowledge somewhere in your travels to help you figure it out."

And as she left, she heard him grunting, "No, Clara, _I need you_!"

Clara could feel the small breaths on her neck as she made her way back out into the dusty road and began walking towards the police station – or as near a police station as an old mid-western town could have – and she grinned at the boy now peeking up at her. A boy with a string brow and round tanned cheeks; a boy aiming the same amused smile back up at her.

With a sigh, she explained, "I know I look like her, sweetheart, but I'm not your mummy."

His lips dropped and she could see the sadness seep into his eyes as he turned them away and told her quietly, "You don't sound like her."

This echo would have been American, she understood, and she rubbed at his back lightly. "Who have you been travelling with?"

Pushing off her shoulder just as they stepped onto the porch, he pinched his lips together and then sighed, "Never knew my daddy and my mommy died and there weren't nobody to take me, so I went with a lady in town who didn't mind me much – says I'm like a mouse."

"Well," Clara laughed, "You're a lot better than a mouse!"

He giggled and then told her quietly, "Your friend is coming."

"I know," she whispered back, poking at his stomach to watch him smile.

"So how do we get him some place safe," the Doctor growled from just behind her and when she swung around, he was tapping his knuckle to his top lip, glancing from the police station to the street before he gestured at the boy, "Where've you come from?"

Pointing as he leaned into Clara, he mumbled something neither understood.

"Well, speak up," the Doctor barked.

"Doctor, don't frighten him," Clara warned.

Giving him a smile through clenched jaws, the Doctor restated in a comically light voice, "_Well, speak up_."

The boy who had his legs wrapped around her midsection offered her a confused look before he told her on a whisper, "Mrs. Graham's at the supply store."

"Perfect, _excellent_," the Doctor told him on a nod. "Take him into the store, find the adult he came with, settle things, and then we can get back to how to get out of this town without using up a regeneration."

"Are you in trouble?" the boy asked lightly before recoiling into Clara's shoulder at the look the Doctor tossed him.

Then the man sighed and, to Clara's surprise, he offered, "We've been – well, _I've been_ – challenged to a duel. Shoot out, just a few hours. Fellow in all black, looks a bit like your worst nightmare, _impeccable_ aim."

Nodding slowly, the boy shrugged, "He's a robot. He's got electrics inside – that's how my mother died. She helped a strange man with a funny face fight someone she said he called a 'robot'."

"You don't remember this?" Clara asked.

The Doctor touched his fingers to either side of his head and winced slightly before dropping his arms and leaning towards her with a quick, "Bit of a mess, in case you've forgotten," then he looked to the boy, "How'd your mother die?"

"Doctor!" Clara spat.

The boy frowned and looked to Clara, eyes roaming her face in a way that burned her heart, and then he took a long breath and told the Doctor plainly, "The strange man had a tool, but the robot shot it out of his hand. The robot was going to shoot the man, but my mother got in the way – she saved him." His bottom lip trembled as he finished, "And then he killed… the robot."

He paused a moment, and Clara watched him stare at the ground before he latched onto her again as the Doctor told her quietly, "So I can Sonic him – guess it works out, case solved, domestic issues handled…"

Eyes widening, Clara spat, "This is what you call handling a domestic matter?"

"Said his caretaker is in the supply store next to the saloon," the Doctor allowed with a shrug.

Clara closed her eyes and she reached up to hug the boy to her, feeling his grip tighten as she made her way across the street and into the store, immediately finding a woman frantically looking for the small child. A small child who refused to release her as she tried to calmly explain she bore a resemblance to his mother and by the time she was able to set him down on the ground in front of her, his small round face was red and wet with tears.

"_Don't leave me_," he pleaded quietly.

She held his shoulders, then straightened the length of brown braces holding pants too large for his tiny frame up at either side of his chest before laying a palm to his heart, feeling it thudding. Clara didn't know whether it was worse that she didn't remember him, or if the pain would have been too terrible if she did, and she shook her head slowly, whispering, "I'm sorry; I'm not her." She met his eyes again, watching them spill over as she added, "I can't _be_ her."

A bell rang above the door and she stood swiftly to meet the Doctor's stare, stepping away from the child without another look and as she made her way towards the frowning man at the door, she could hear the boy begin to sob into the skirt of the older woman who did her best to console him. She walked past the Doctor and out into the blinding sunlight and just as she heard a horse neigh, she was tugged roughly away and spun towards a space between two of the buildings where she blinked warm droplets over her cheeks.

"Don't do this to yourself, Clara," the Doctor warned and she was taken aback by the softness to his tone, looking up into his eyes as he gripped her shoulders as she'd done to the boy.

Smiling weakly, she told him, "All of those echoes; all of those lives. I protected you, but at what cost, Doctor?"

"You knew what you risked," he stated.

Head shaking, she replied, "I risked my life. I didn't give a second thought to the lives of the women I'd be creating – what they would leave behind in saving you." Clara bowed her head and gasped, "How many children have I left motherless?"

"Clara," the Doctor pleaded, hands coming up to cup either side of her neck, "How many children were saved because of you; because of your actions? Worlds upon worlds, Clara. Each one of those children remains motherless – nothing you can do about that – but they live in worlds saved because of you."

Exhaling in defeat, she told him, "They live in worlds without their mothers."

He watched her raise her head and he felt his hearts stop for a split second at the sadness in her eyes; at the understanding that she knew the pain that little boy was feeling all too well. With a small nod, he took a step away, feeling her body lurch forward slightly towards him before she backed into the wall behind her loudly. The Doctor gave a half-turn and he lowered his head, gesturing at her, "You're making it personal."

"Of course it's personal," Clara cried. "They're my children."

"They're not your children," the Doctor shot. "And odds are there aren't that many – it would create a dangerous ripple effect through time. That boy is an anomaly; probably find himself dead of dysentery before he reaches puberty."

Clara rushed forward and shoved the Doctor hard into the opposite building. She gripped at his coat as his eyes widened down at her angry glare, "Don't you ever say that about a child. He is not an anomaly – he is as bright as _any_ star in your universe and what he will do, Doctor, is be _brilliant_. He will shine a light through history and don't you ever tell me that a child would have the potential to do anything less."

For a moment they stared into one another – the Doctor confused and just a smidge terrified of the elfish woman gripping his long coat with her teeth held tightly together – and then her mouth opened slightly and she lowered her eyes, closing them as she exhaled. "Clara…" he began.

Turning away from him, she shook her head as she raised a hand to stop his words before she spoke silently, "We have a robot to take out before it takes out this town, remember?"

"Clara…" he sighed, straightening as she planted her palms at the hips of her dress.

With a nod, she swallowed and continued, "Domestic matter handled, we should go come up with a battle plan, now that we know it's a robot."

She walked away from him before he could respond and he found himself trailing behind, keeping his distance as he watched her steady her shoulders as she buried the anger she felt. Clara's demeanor shifted as the hours passed and they assembled the townspeople to help them. A simple plan that involved a simple distraction and ended with a robot hissing and sparking on the ground and Clara, crying over a child who'd done just as his mother had, while ignoring the Doctor's solemnly watchful eye, damning himself for being right.


End file.
